


No Talking

by CoffeesForFuckers



Series: Drabble [1]
Category: PewDiePie - Fandom, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Almost smut, Arguing, Fighting, M/M, Other, one-shot?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 10:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8397319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeesForFuckers/pseuds/CoffeesForFuckers
Summary: Small idea, not sure if I should write more?





	

“No talking.” Breathes Jack, swaying in a slutty fashion as his arms went around his friend’s shoulders. His hands sliding back down as he unbuttoned the top button of the other’s plaid shirt.

“Jack? What are you-” he was stopped as Jack’s hand pushed to his mouth.

“Shh, I said no talking.” Jack said softly. Mark could smell the alcohol flowing with his words.

Music played in the background, some type of weird dance-like music that Mark had never heard.

It felt weird, almost wrong to have his ex-friend on him like this,  _ touching him _ like this. He felt dirty as Jack pushed him to the bedroom wall behind him. His lips being pressed to the younger’s, Jack wanted him, most likely just drunk and horny.

One thing that seemed off, Jack had Felix. They’d been together since they were Freshman in high school. Mark still remembers when they got together, forever bitter about it.

Jack was supposed to be his. Mark was left with nothing, he’d lost his best friend for his other best friend. Mark, Jack and Felix were always pretty much together, they were so close.

That was until Mark fucked up.

The only reason why Mark was even there was because Jack called him that night, he sounded urgent when he had told Mark to come over. Mark never would’ve expected this.

Jack’s slender fingers fumbled drunkenly with Mark’s lucky plaid shirt. Today it didn’t feel very lucky…

“Jack, stop.” Mark tried to push him off but he didn’t budge.

“No talking.” He again spoke, barely even looking up at Mark.

“No, what will Felix say? I won’t ruin this, I already fucked up enough.” Mark again trying to push the Irishmen off of him, though Jack pulled away himself this time.

“Why do ya care anyway?!” Jack snapped suddenly, “Ya had no problem trying to fuck things up last time!” He said angrily.

“Because. Last time I was hurt and selfish, listen, I’m not gonna hurt you anymore. I came because I thought you needed me but you’re just drunk and horny and your little boy-toy is too busy for you.” Mark tried to be gentle but anger boiled within him, “Go call someone else for this.”

“I did need ya. I needed ya to fuck me and make me fuckin’ forget.” Jack spat, “But whatever, just go. I’ll call Ryan or Matt or something.” He dismissed as he turned his back on Mark, grabbing a half-empty bottle of vodka and sipping from it. He cleared his throat stiffly before taking another swig.

“What?” Asked Mark, confused.

“Jus’ get ta fook outa ‘ere.” His accent seeming to be much stronger when he was drunk.

“No. Tell me what you’re going on about.” Mark demanded.

“Get out!” Shouted Jack drunkenly as he spun around, throwing an empty beer bottle at Mark.

“Whoa! What the fuck, Jack!? Calm down!” Mark bellowed, pissed at Jack’s behavior.

“Get ta fook outa me house!” Jack yelled, stepping more towards Mark. His breathing was heavy, almost as if he weren’t able to catch his breath, Mark could see his blue eyes shining, lined with tears that he was forcing back.

“Jack. You need to talk to me, what the fuck is your problem?” Mark again demanded answers.

“You!” He practically screamed, “Ye’re me fookin’ problem, Mark!” He continued to yell.

“What!? What did I do!?” Mark gasped at him.

“Ya fookin’ ruined it fur me! Ya ruined everythin’!” Jack hissed bitterly.

“How did  _ I _ ruin everything!? You’re the one trying to fuck me!” Mark snapped at what he was being accused of.

“Ya made ‘im leave! Felix fookin’ left me fur ya! Ya jus’ had ta fook ‘im, didn’t ya!? Couldn’t let me ‘ave nothin’!” Jack began to sob, “Now ‘e loves ya! Now, ‘e don’t want me!” 

“Jack, I never-”

“He fookin’ told me! He told me that ‘e wanted ya! He said ya fooked!” He shouted, “It’s not fair!” He bawled, “Ya get everythin’ ya want!”

“Jack, no… I didn’t even touch him, I haven’t talked to him in forever.”

“Fookin’ liar…” He muttered, “Just fookin’ leave.” He cried, taking another, large, mouthful of vodka and collapsing onto his bed. Mark didn’t want to leave him alone, though he couldn’t stay, knowing that when Jack was drunk and upset he could get violent, as proven when he threw the bottle at him.

“I’m sorry.”


End file.
